


safety in the danger

by soldier



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Asphyxiation, Daddy Kink, Multi, Praise Kink, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldier/pseuds/soldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Jack and Nisha's anniversary, and Rhys' new job comes with some perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safety in the danger

**Author's Note:**

> some sort of AU where Rhys is Jack's PA. it's not that important, haha.

Rhys sprawled on the huge couch in Jack's living room, finishing off his latest beer and tapping his feet in time with the music pumping through the sound system.

It was rare to get a moment of peace to himself. During working hours, and often after, Jack had him running laps around Helios as his PA; off-duty, the man himself was hardly any less chaotic to deal with. Keeping up with Jack was his job and, recently, had become his personal life. He loved it, but it was nice to get some quiet now and again.

The reason for the quiet: Jack was out for the night, on an anniversary date with Nisha. ("Miss Kadam", as he'd addressed her the first few times they met, had made her smirk at him until embarrassment made him want to drop through the floor.) Rhys knew the details because he'd arranged it, after Jack had barked specifications at him. Knowing them, he'd guessed that murder would be a part of the evening, so he tried to place them adjacent to people who sort of deserved it. They could have their fun and he could sleep easy at night.

(Then again, he was pretty sure most people down on Pandora deserved it.)

A few beers later, he was not-quite-dozing on the couch when the door to Jack's penthouse slid open. Laughter rang down the corridor. He double-checked the time--had he slept until morning? He hadn't expected Jack to be back tonight at all. 

And, judging from the sound of the laughter, Nisha was with him. _Really?_ Rhys thought, _You couldn't spring for a hotel?_ Tamping down his annoyance, he reprimanded himself--he was the guest here, after all. Even if Jack _had_ forcibly moved him into his personal penthouse. 

He peeked over the back of the couch. This could get awkward, and he was prepared to get kicked out. Their... arrangement, whatever it was, was very new. _Arrangement_ was probably too formal of a term. Jack had come on to him during a particularly slow day at the office, he'd said _fuck yes_ , and that had been that. Suddenly he was spending most of his free time in Jack's company, and one day, Jack's girlfriend, who he could barely look in the eye, was straddling him in Jack's huge throne of an office chair while Jack laughed in his ear from behind.

He was sure for them it was just a bit of distracting fun with someone they had utterly under their thumbs. But it was fun for him too, so he'd decided to continue for the foreseeable future. He could only hope he was good enough at his actual job that Jack would keep him around once they got bored of him.

Still, just because they were both fucking him didn't mean they'd want him around all the time. It definitely didn't mean they'd want him around tonight of all nights. Maybe he should have gone back to bunk with Vaughn. (He'd told Vaughn he'd gotten upgraded; he had not told him his "upgrade" was to Jack's personal suite.)

Jack's eyes scanned the room and finally landed on him, cowering on the couch. "There you are, cupcake!" Jack was so boisterous all the time it was hard to tell if he'd been drinking, but there was a ring to his voice that suggested so.

Nisha let go of Jack's arm and came around the couch, hauling Rhys to his feet. Rhys scrambled, prepared to grab his things and duck out, but Nisha didn't let him go.

"Um, hi," he managed, caught in her grip. "How was dinner?"

"The saloon was great," Nisha grinned. "The owner threatened us, started yelling about how Hyperion ruined the planet, so we took him out back and shot him. The staff was real eager to serve us after that. Thanks, kiddo."

Jack scowled and rounded the couch as well, his eyes focused on the over-familiarity of Nisha's hands on Rhys' forearms. "And why are you thanking him?" He placed a hand on Rhys' shoulder from behind, weighty and possessive, and then his thumb was rubbing little circles in the bare skin above the collar of Rhys' shirt.

"He planned it, didn't he?" Nisha grinned, leaning towards Jack, which meant leaning further into Rhys' space. He could smell her--smell both of them, actually, a heady mix of her perfume and his cologne under a layer of gunpowder. 

_What is happening_ , he thought. Well--he was pretty sure he knew what was happening, just not _why_. Why Jack and Nisha were crowding at his back and chest, touching him, throwing lascivious looks over his shoulders--

"Rhys!" Jack barked into his ear. It was the same tone he used at work often; Rhys snapped to attention immediately.

"Yes, sir?"

"Oh, I like that," Nisha crooned. "Do you make him call you sir when you bend him over your desk?"

Rhys flushed, felt Jack grin into his hair. "He'll call you whatever you want, isn't that right, kitten?" Ok--he was still scrabbling to catch up to the rules of this game, whatever they were. Honestly, he was still half-expecting to get thrown out at any moment.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"You're real cute being coy, but can we skip this part? Am I getting my point across here?" Nisha asked, dropping her hand to grope him. "I really hope I'm getting my point across."

Rhys squeaked. "Are you sure?"

Nisha pulled back, eyebrow raised. "Are _you_ sure, kiddo?"

"I just thought--" Rhys attempted, "With your anniversary and all--"

"It's our anniversary, so let us celebrate the way we fucking want," Jack snapped.

"By fucking you," Nisha confirmed, attempting seriousness before dissolving into a tipsy giggle. She dragged Rhys forward by his belt loops and he suddenly felt a lot more drunk than a few beers should've caused. Either that or the sudden pressure of Nisha's fingers on his hips and Jack's teeth on his neck were leaving him light-headed. 

"Bedroom," Nisha growled against Rhys' mouth. He nodded mutely, letting himself be push-pulled down the hallway, Nisha's hat getting lost somewhere in the process.

Nisha shoved him down roughly on Jack's bed and straddled him, undoing the buttons on her shirt while Jack sidled behind her and slid off her jacket. Rhys could only watch them for a moment before Nisha _tsk_ ed and kneed him in the side. With an _oof_ he began to fumble his own shirt off, pressing his hips up into Nisha's until she hummed with it. She threw her shirt across the room; Jack jerked her head to the side and attached his teeth to her neck, his free hand roughly groping at Rhys' still-clothed dick. Nisha grinned down at Rhys as she batted Jack's hand aside and worked open the button on his jeans.

His fingers scrambled on her hips in an attempt to reciprocate, finally popping the fly on her tight pants while she helped Jack kick off her shoes. Jack threw off his coat and began working the buttons on his vest. 

"Come here," Nisha breathed, pulling Jack up to their side. "You're too dressed." They kissed over Rhys while she divested him of his vest and work shirt, only parting to pull the yellow Hyperion t-shirt over his head. Rhys' hands stilled where he was kneading Nisha through her jeans, enjoying the show, until Nisha kneed him in the side again.

"Ow, god," he whined. "Stop that."

Jack sneered at him. "You need to learn to start pulling your weight around here, cupcake."

"Then..." Rhys felt his face heating, but he knew what was expected of him. "Then tell me what to do."

"Oh, good boy," Nisha purred, making him redden further; she leaned down to kiss him, hot and dirty, while his fingers scrabbled at her back to undo her bra.

"That's it, kiddo," Jack praised him, running a hand through Rhys' hair as he lowered himself to the bed to watch them. Rhys whimpered into Nisha's mouth, happy at the praise.

It was dangerous, to be here with these people like this. The danger ran through him like an electric current, but he also felt... safe. He'd gotten comfortable in this routine and it hadn't come back to bite him, yet. There was danger in that too, in letting his guard down. The cognitive dissonance was worrying, but he pushed it aside; focused on the hot-sick-dizzy feeling it provided instead.

Rhys pulled Nisha's bra off and threw it past the bed, then started working on her pants. Her underwear matched her bra, dark purple lace, the same shade as the lipstick he could feel smeared and tacky across his jaw. Jack growled at his side, roughly pulling down Rhys' pants; Rhys helped him kick them off, pushing off his patterned socks alongside them. 

He heard Jack groping in the nightstand and then Jack was pushing him onto his back, Rhys' hips still thrusting uselessly from where he'd been grinding into Nisha. Jack took a moment to make eye contact and grin as he pushed Rhys' legs apart and hooked his fingers into Rhys' boxers.

"Don't tease the poor kid," Nisha sneered, brushing her hand through Rhys' hair. He leaned into the touch as Jack tossed away his boxers, leaving him exposed, the only one naked, and desperately hard. "So cute."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack mumbled, coating his fingers in lube. He groped at Rhys' entrance for a moment, allowing him to mumble appreciatively and grind back against his hand, before roughly shoving a finger inside.

"Fuck, J-Jack," Rhys grunted.

Nisha had a wicked glint in her eye, still petting his hair. "No, no, baby boy," she purred. "Call him Daddy."

Rhys' breath caught on nothing. " _Nisha_ ," he whined, flushed as much with embarrassment as arousal. But Jack's face had already contorted into that Cheshire cat-grin that meant yes, this was happening, Rhys' token protests be damned. 

Rhys tried to tamp down on the sick, excited rolling in his belly. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate more on Nisha's hand in his hair than Jack's fingers. He'd added another, going slower than Rhys wanted, more teasing than anything. Rhys thrusted back against his hand, trying to get more friction, until curled his fingers against Rhys' prostate. 

"Fuck," Rhys groaned. "Ja--" Nisha tugged at his hair; he gritted his teeth against a wave of shame and fresh arousal and tried again. "D-Daddy--"

"Oh, sweetheart," Jack crooned, his voice sickly sweet. Rhys opened his eyes and bit his lip at the smirk on Jack's face, the intensity in his gaze. "I'm going to fuck you 'til you cry."

"Such big talk," Nisha said, but her voice was breathless; she looked at Rhys like they were sharing some private joke but when he looked down she was touching herself, watching them, the hand that wasn't tangled in his hair curled beneath her underwear.

Rhys groaned, gripping the sheets with his metal arm even as he batted her hand away with his flesh one, curling his fingers against her to do the job himself. He thumbed her clit, letting her grind against his open palm, hot and wet, until he slipped his fingers inside, matching the sliding rhythm of Jack's fingers stretching him open. Jack added a third and twisted them roughly against his prostate; Rhys groaned, his fingers and toes curling on their own accord, and Nisha moaned quietly and jerked against him.

"Get on with it, would you? I'm getting bored here," she said, but the desperate strain in her voice gave her away.

Jack made a big show of rolling his eyes as he fumbled in the nightstand again, tossing a condom at Nisha while he tore another one open with his teeth. 

"Um," Rhys stuttered, head filling with thoughts of how this could go either really well or really badly for him, "Two?"

(He knew Nisha had a strap-on, could only assume she had used it on Jack--but oh, that wasn't a fantasy he could entertain right now if he wanted to stay in the game--)

"On your side, kiddo," Jack instructed him, his gaze intense as he rolled the condom on. Rhys blushed down to his shoulders and rolled over, watching Nisha shimmy out of her underwear. She winked at him as she tossed them aside and then there was a hand on his dick, rolling the condom on. He grunted as she stroked him a few times, finally seeing where this was going. _Ah_. He wasn't going to last long at all. 

He felt Jack move behind him as Nisha straddled him from the front, one hand on his dick and one on his face, stroking, cooing at him, "such a pretty boy," and he turned his face into the pillow. It was embarassing--the pet names, the praise, but most of all it was embarassing how much he liked it, how much it affected him. It'd never been like this before.

Jack exhaled hotly against his neck as he began to push in and Rhys groaned, reaching his flesh hand behind to fist in Jack's hair, an anchor as Jack slid all the way home. He shuddered when Jack turned his head to nip him on the wrist. Nisha waited until Jack was fully seated before roughly grabbing Rhys' dick and guiding it inside herself. Rhys shut his eyes tight and whimpered. He felt open and raw and vunerable in the best way.

They started a rhythm, slow and slick, and Rhys couldn't seperate one sensation from the other, lost in a haze of achingly hot pleasure. He didn't realize he was biting back moans until someone pulled his lip from between his teeth, and he reached out with the name that was in front of him, " _Nisha_."

That earned him a particularly hard thrust from behind--jealous, always--and he choked out "Daddy!" without even thinking about it, caught the white glint of Nisha's grin and Jack's low chuckle in his ear before he was pulled back under, in a daze.

"Please," Rhys heard himself groaning, "Pleaaase, please, please." He was aware it was nonsense. He didn't even know what he was asking for, more or less or nothing at all, but he was unable to stop. Jack wrapped an arm around his chest, a comforting anchor for a moment, before he brought it up to his neck.

"Shh, kitten," Jack didn't soothe but _instructed_ , and Rhys choked out a groan at the pressure on his wind pipe before Jack's arm tightened further. He could still breathe if he concentrated on it, but it was hard to concentrate; all he could do was focus on the push-pull of his straining lungs and the push-pull of their hips. It was dizzying--both the lack of oxygen and his arousal, a feedback loop of pleasure-pain, and he couldn't move at all now, just lay and accept whatever they gave him without even the means to beg for more. 

It wasn't long before he was writhing in Jack's grip and whimpering, trying to say _I'm going to come, please let me come_ without the means to say it, and he gasped harshly for air as Jack released his neck. "Daddy," he groaned, "Daddy, please," and Nisha was smirking over his shoulder and he felt Jack nod against the back of his head and he was coming before he could even verbalize enough to ask for permission, his hips jerking as much as he could, caught in their twin grips.

Nisha pulled off of his softening dick, her eyes glued to where Jack was still thrusting into him. Rhys whined on each push in, oversensitive and wrecked, the line between feeling good and feeling too much blurring in his dizzy head. His whole body shuddered when Jack came, rubbing his face into the pillow and mewling, wishing distantly that Jack hadn't been wearing a condom so he could really feel it.

"Come on, you're not done yet, kiddo." Nisha's voice was low; she ran a hand through his hair as she guided him into a sitting position. "Momma hasn't come yet."

Rhys swallowed and noddly mutely, too thoroughly fucked out to protest being manhandled, and settled into position with his face between Nisha's legs. He could hear Jack tying off both condoms and tossing them across the room--hopefully into the trash--and then both their gazes were fixed on him again. 

His rhythm was lazy at first but he was encouraged by Nisha's little grunts and sighs, and he picked up the pace as he began to come out of his daze somewhat. Rhys' fingers curled inside her and his tongue at her clit, Nisha came, exhaling " _Good_ boy," like she really meant it, and Rhys felt a glow of satisfaction at a job well done almost as intense as when he'd come himself.

This'd normally be the part where Jack kicked--sometimes literally kicked--Rhys out of bed to go come down and lick his wounds elsewhere. Instead, Nisha half-hauled Rhys back onto the pillows, Rhys still shivering and oversensitive.

"Where did that come from?" Rhys asked. His voice sounded wrecked even to his own ears. Judging by the amused looks on Jack and Nisha's faces, they had noticed too.

"What part?" Nisha asked, stretching.

"The..." Rhys closed his eyes against the vision of her and felt himself blush again; now that he was no longer turned on out of his mind, it was a lot harder to say.

"Oh, the Daddy thing?" Nisha laughed. "Well, I wasn't going to call him that, but I figured I'd indulge his little kink anyway."

"Bitch," Jack mumbled into his pillow at Rhys' other side. It was surprisingly lacking in heat. (It was funny; they'd fuck in his office and Jack would be cleaned up and screaming at peons again five minutes later, not a hair out of place, but when they were in bed he'd be face down and docile and snoring immediately. It was kind of endearing, if Rhys was being honest, and 'endearing' was _so_ far down on the list of qualities he'd expected the man to have.)

"Ah." Rhys wondered if he should go, now that his role in the evening ( _as glorified fuck-toy_ , his head helpfully supplied him) was over. There was no way to make a dignified exit; either he crawled out from where he was sandwiched between them, stark naked and trying to salvage his clothes and his dignity, or he lay there and play the waiting game until one of them kicked him out.

Neither option seemed particularly appealing, but he figured it'd hurt his pride less to leave before he was dismissed. Trying to wiggle out from under Nisha proved futile, though, as she refused to budge, and really, why did they have to make this so difficult on him?

Jack groaned. "Kitten, Daddy's trying to sleep. Stop fucking moving around so much."

Rhys felt Nisha sigh into his shoulder. "Oh, hot as it was, I knew this was a bad idea." She was still making no move to get off of him.

Well, OK then. He was used to Jack ushering him off to the guest room after he was done with him, but he could do this. He could spend the night here with his... what were these people to him, exactly? Friends with benefits wasn't exactly accurate, since they weren't really friends. He couldn't imagine doing the things he did with Vaughn and Yvette with Jack and Nisha (or vice versa, thank god). 

But clearly their relationship had surpassed "boss, employee and boss' girlfriend" a while ago. (Maybe it was standard practice for Jack to fuck his underlings, Rhys didn't know, but if there was anyone else sharing his personal quarters Rhys had yet to hear of them.)

Huh.

Nisha curled around him like a cat and Jack asleep at his back, Rhys decided to leave those thoughts for the morning.


End file.
